Offline Ithor - Geneva Convention
Previous The sound of air being suctioned shut finishes with a clamping sound. Gorbie moves his hands around, somewhat unhappy of his enclosed armour. "It's really the only way to move around without infecting people" he thinks to himself. Helmet off, he video conferences Admiral Hhead President Nneck, and several of the heroes. "Let me start by thanking you both for this armor, allowing me to move around without fear of infecting people." The admiral doesn't skip a beat and heads right to business. "Gorbie, Mr President, we currently have 568 Commonwealth soldiers being held as prisoners. This is a serious threat to our fleet security." "What do you suggest, Admiral?" asks President Nneck. Before an answer is available, a voice emerges from the peanut gallery saying "slave collars!". Roth's grin is clearly visible in the background, even on the newly installed video conference screen. Gorbie clears his throat and begins to speak, introducing himself as "General Kenobi". An Ithorian voice on the other side clears his throat and snidely interrupts him. "Umm, I don't have a General Kenobi on this attendee list. Can you clarify who you are?" Gorbie sighs, pauses a moment and responds "Terrorist Kenobi" which produces some chuckles from the other side of the screen. Gorbie lights a cigar, takes a few puffs, and waits for the laughter to die down. "Ladies and Gentlemen, are you finished? This is serious business here, and though you may think it's funny, we're now at war, and we have prisoners of said war. How we deal with this defines who we are and whether we deserve anything. I'd like to propose to the group that we treat prisoners with the utmost respect. The thought here is that we need to win the hearts and minds of these people, and torturing them isn't the right way to do that. This isn't about winning the war, it's about winning the war the right way." Wedge sighs. “Why do you come here every day to torture me like this?” Still puffing on his cigar, Gorbie blows some smoke away from Wedge. “I keep hoping one day you'll change your mind. You know this new movement isn't very different than the movement we were in together not so long ago. I remember when I first met you, you were willing to let a huge cache of ships go because you valued life. Well I value life, and I value freedom, and one day you'll see that, and one day we'll be fighting on the same side.” There is a pause. “You're an ass.” “Fine, I'm an ass, but what I'm not is a murderer, nor are you. I know there are dangerous elements in the POW camp. You know you don't need them to escape anyways...” Gorbie opens the door to a makeshift prison being guarded by several Ithorians. Surveying several dozen binder cuffed, while some more were having their lunch. Walking through slowly, he feels a bit uneasy at his sealed armour, not having worn anything similar in years. Precautions had been made, splitting up members of the same crew, and keeping numbers to a manageable size. Still, Gorbie felt there were dangerous elements in the prisoner complex, and he kept a very sharp eye, behind his own duties on the war council. Voices behind him are raised, and a "thud" is heard, with a sharp cry of pain. Turning around, he see a pair of Ithorian guards kicking a human prisoner, who was turtled on the ground. Running over, Gorbie pushes one of them off the prisoner, demanding an explanation. The guard pushes him back, only seeing an unrecognized face through the power armour, with no visible rank markings. "This man was on board a ship that destroyed my brother's vessel! Why shouldn't I beat him? He's MY prisoner now." The guard was now pointing his stun baton at Gorbie, still not knowing who he was, and not having been told otherwise. Not backing down at a chance for "aggressive diplomacy" Gorbie looks down at the stun baton, smiles, and glances at the guards' name tag. "Private Hsan this is not how we treat prisoners of war. I can understand you are angry and upset over the loss of your brother, but poor circumstances led to these deaths. We are not in a war of military might, but a war of philosophy..." The guard's eyes glaze over, not having understood a single word from Gorbie. Clearing his throat, Gorbie tries again, acutely aware that the entire prisoner complex and guards were now watching this exchange. Gorbie straightens out and steps onto his metaphorical soapbox. "We aren't part of the commonwealth because we hold ourselves to a higher standard. This military will NOT run free of civilian government; this military will have checks and balances and we won't be marching in to any territory annexing it." "Honestly, I suggest we just let all the prisoners go. What do we really have to gain by holding prisoners?" The room erupts in shouting. The Ithorian military leaders are obviously angry that Gorbie suggested letting go hundred of prisoners that killed their friends. "Listen guys" continues Gorbie, "we have no strategic reason to hold them. It's only weakening our position. I'm not saying let them go with all our secrets or anything, nor am I saying we release all of them - some of them will be deemed too dangerous. The rest? Who cares." Barely audible over the shouting, Gorbie's pleas are left mostly unheard. The President of Ithor calls for a recess of the meeting, and the shouting calms down. A rear admiral unknown to Gorbie shouts from across the conference table. "I don't understand why we're listening to this murderer. He and all those prisoners should be shot for all the Ithorian deaths they've caused!" The room is silent for a moment, all eyes on Gorbie, waiting for a response. "You think killing me, or these prisoners, will make things better? We're in the battle for our lives here folks, and you don't even know what you're up against. I do. What I refuse to do, however, is let a yet another military run empire take over this sector of the galaxy. I refuse to even try to save this galaxy for yet another dictator. Civilian rights, and a proper ethical code that we will all abide by. Killing yet more people misses the point of why we stood up to tyranny, because by pure military numbers, we should have just submitted to the Commonwealth. Yet what they don't know if that even with their numbers, without the will of the people to survive, this is still going to end in many trillion tears. So that's why we're starting over. We're building this right, not just as a military force to stand up to our oppressors and our enemies, but a whole population willing to stand together, make their sacrifices, and fight as a free society of people that want to fight. So take the proposal to the council, take it to a vote. I've had my say now it's up to the council of representatives to decide. Gorbie leans back at his desk as he takes a report from Min. Glancing over it quickly he looks up. "So they killed both guards, bare hands. Took their guns, stun batons, and retreated somewhere back into the camp. We have no idea who they are at all. No video cameras in this place? Seriously." "Very efficient" starts Min, "basically necks were snapped, highly trained, dangerous operatives. I'll take you to the bodies..." At this moment Roth knocks on the door and interrupts them. "Hey guys, just thought you should now, the Ithorians have found a couple dead prisoners, killed unarmed, no weapon marks on the scene at all." Roth waits for an answer. He teeth look a bit less jagged than usual, and he's almost smiling, though his news isn't so great. "Eh Killam, over here, this way!" Darren Chartwell whispered. The group of six prisoners were silently moving in the basement tunnels of the Ithorian Detention Centre. A faint noise from just beyond forces Chartwell to pause. He grips his gun tightly, hoping that this doesn't end in a firefight so soon to their near-escape. Only imagining something, Chartwell signals the group to move on. Silently crouching, the group gets near to a guard check point. They're trained enough to be able to handle a couple guards. "This should be easy" he thinks to himself, getting ready to spring their ambush. Noticable once they are closer, the guard-post is empty. There are no guards. The escapees look at each other, not sure what to make of their luck. Onwards with their plan, the escapees keep moving. "George Killam, human from the Rebel fleet. Martial arts training. Darren Chartwell, just started training with Alpha Squad under General Cromwell**, same as you Gorbie, looks like he's lasted a bit longer than you in that unit." Min chuckles to herself, forgetting her own short stint in the Tie Marines. "Looks like these guys are the ring leaders of the escapees. A couple more notables, Captain Whiterock of the Rebel Fleet, not in command, but in Rebel Intelligence, was stationed on the Ringrunner along with another guy here, Lt. Creit, an engineer that also worked on the Ringrunner. Two more for you here, a Lt Carr, a survivor from one of the destroyed gunships, and it looks like he was stationed there as a Jedi Paladin. Last, we've got Lt. Handr, an Ithorian believe it or not, he was an early joiner to the Rebel Military. "What this Ringrunner?" says Gorbie. "Anyone? Alright let's put this new datapad they gave me to good use. Looks like this thing is actually Ithor-bound getting repaired. Something about sabotaged weapons making the ship completely useless. Looks like this corvette is being fixed in the same base where these prisoners are being held. Who comes up with this stuff? Okay here is what we're going to do..." Killam, Chartwell, Whiterock, Handr, and Carr and Creit make their way to the Ringrunner. Disabled doors, a couple of early killed guards, and an unfortunate prisoner incident on their hands, where they were almost exposed. Knowing they could not get everyone out, those with the best chance banded together, each with a reason to be there. Killam and Chartwell were the elite soldiers, hardened by years of close combat. Whiterock was a personal envoy of Admiral Gilfosh, and unfortunately had several fleet deployment plans on a datachip he so cleverly hid from the Ithorians. Carr was a young Jedi Paladin now without his lighsabre. He had hidden it on the Ringrunner and made himself out to be a regular crew member. Lt Creit was an engineer, and had sabotaged the ship to ensure it was docked somewhere under repairs. He was the one who had the components to be able to fix the ship. Lastly was Handr, who was an Ithorian that could grease some palms to hopefully get them out of the system. The group made their way to the ship, a bit uneasy at how little resistance they had so far met. As the escapees closed the access hatch to the Ringrunner, the ship seemed empty. They weren't expected anyone to be working at this late hour on the ship - Ithorians like their rest, and Handr knew exactly when to make their move. Once on the ship, Creit immediately went to Engineering to fix the drive and the weapons. The rest of the them made their way to the command area of the corvette. The access hatch shut behind them with a thud. “Creit, what's your ETA so I can start these engines?” says Chartwell, through the intercom. “Creit?” All six escapees were in binder cuffs, sitting in a room with a one-way mirror. Admiral Hhead was with Gorbie on the other side. “So let me get this straight, you had all the guards removed when you knew where they were going, so they wouldn't hurt anyone?” Gorbie smiles. “Yup, that's right.” “How did you know where they were going?” “Sean's deductive reasoning” “Who's Sean?” “One of your officers. Good guy.” Category:Offline